Masters Of Blob Petting

masters of blob petting

"Can I interest you in some cookies?" with a loving husband and father of two, Min Yoongi. please and thank you Foxy😌

Characters: Dad Yoongi x Reader Words: 4963 CW: references to sex, some swearing, otherwise just fluff

[Sugie]: need anything from store on my way home?

[Y/N]: onion diapers sz 4 wipes (NO scent!) kid toothpaste stwbry cucumber cheese sticks 

[Y/N]: bananas bandaids rice blueberries if on sale

[Y/N]: apple juice for kids 

[Y/N]: 8*stwbry flavor toothpaste

Yoongi reads between the lines of your disorganized list, no doubt dashed together as you whirl through the house to see what’s low or missing. You’re thinking about what to cook for dinner and seeing no onion. Size 4 diapers means Joo, who’s been leaking through the legs of her old kind since she started walking, a little on the late side but she’s really a power house now, especially when she runs headfirst into immovable objects; maybe she’s out of diapers or maybe you’ve had a day of cleaning the leaks and have made the call the toss the remaining ones. He’ll get the ‘active baby’ kind that Jungkook says work well because if it works for a kid of Jungkook’s it must work for Joo. The toothpaste will be for Kija and he disagrees they’re completely out because he’s still able to squeeze a little tiny bit but fine, he’ll give you this victory and go ahead and buy a new tube; maybe you’re hoping he’ll forget the argument that had seemed so important for some reason when you sent him the list the other day. He’s a little offended you don’t expect he’ll know the toothpaste has to be strawberry, not mint, but he’s learned his lesson that Kija will scream and cry and scrape at his mouth like it’s on fire. Three tubes of mint kids toothpaste wait in the cabinet for him to grow out of that someday.

Most of the food items are obvious but the bandaids could mean someone got hurt or that someone got into the box unsupervised. Kija is big on bandaids suddenly after two years of shrieking if you even tried to put one on and now suddenly every imagined bump needs a bandaid. 

But the rice…

[Sugie]: rice? I just bought some its in the bottom of the pantry

[Y/N]: bad storage place, got dump out all over kitchen

He sighs. 

Your typos gives him the image of you chasing children and dog through the house, texting distractedly while trying to get them corralled safely so you can make their early dinner. In the old days you texted as articulately as you spoke. He’ll cook something better for the two of you, he decides, and remembers to tell you that so you don’t just heat up extra dumplings for yourself too.

[Sugie]: i’ll cook so stay hungry

[Y/N]: k

Definitely busy. 

He makes quick work of the shopping trip, double checking he has everything on your list even though he had expected you’d only have one or two things for him because he was at the store two days ago. They don’t have strawberry kids toothpaste but hopefully watermelon will do –the bubblegum flavor he almost grabs has sparkles in it and Kija will decide that means it’s “spicy.” Yoongi is proud of himself for predicting this.

But now that he’s thinking about it, he feels bad about such a stupid argument about the toothpaste. Did it matter if you threw the tube away while there was still a squeeze or two left? You weren’t that cash-strapped right now. He didn’t know why he’d felt so strongly about his way being right. What a waste of energy, fighting with you over something stupid, when energy was already hard to come by.

So he grabs a box of cookies too, for you, the maple flavor ones that aren’t usually available outside of this time of year and sell out fast. They aren’t anything expensive, and definitely not as good as what you could bake on your own. But with two small children at home, him working full time and you still working part time as a compromise for juggling your careers and family, sometimes you have to take the shortcut to a treat. Boxed cookies instead of homemade. At least it was something.

The house is in chaos by the time Yoongi gets home and your stress level isn’t helping it. Knowing he was out busy but childless all day, you had hoped to have the kids settled, obedient, and clean when he walks through the door, to show what a good grip you have on things. He doesn’t expect it, but still you feel the need to prove that you can handle the kids all day just fine on your own and have it look tidy and have dinner on the table. The woman who does it all! After all, you’re the one who wanted to have the first kid. After all, you’re the one who suggested a second even though you had agreed on only one. Kija was too easy of a baby. He tricked you. And yes Yoongi had agreed, but when things didn’t go well, sometimes you felt like you’d tricked him too.

It is not a perfectly ordered and quiet household Yoongi walks into. You’ve made an appropriate snack for the kids to eat while waiting for Yoongi to get home with the ingredients for you to make the rest of dinner (or hopefully he will take over that part), but Joo choked on a piece of cracker and threw up a little, which scared you; Kija took advantage of your distraction to climb onto the back of the couch and throw his food onto the floor for Holy to gobble up; because Holy is there, you aren’t prepared for the puddle of pee in the hallway, which you step in as you’re dragging Joo to the nursery to clean up. When you yell at the unexpected warm puddle and jump to the side, you hit your shoulder on a picture frame, which crashes to the floor and shatters, making Joo cry. Kija and Holy come running to see what happened and you shriek at them to stay so they don’t walk through the glass, and Kija starts wailing at being shouted at.

This is what Yoongi walks into. You are on the verge of tears. One look at your husband’s surprised face is enough to nearly pitch you over the edge into your own meltdown. His lifted eyes feel like a lecture –but you should know better. He won’t lecture about something like this. Instead he scoops up Kija and takes Holy by the collar, guiding his dog son to the crate and his human son back to the TV. He returns a moment later with the broom, and you feel confident in picking your clear path the rest of the way to the nursery.

By the time you come back, Joo is clean and Yoongi is on his hands and knees cleaning up the dog pee and any small shards of glass. You suspect he’ll be out here again later tonight for one more wipe of the floor just to make sure there’s no glass left. You haven’t even said hello yet but you’re embarrassed he had to walk in and go right to problem-solving.

When he looks up at you, you start to apologize, “I’m sorry that–”

“Your leg is bleeding,” he points out. You hadn’t even noticed. The corner of the frame must have cut you on the way down.

So you settle Joo on the couch with Kija and go to clean yourself up this time. You finish around the same time Yoongi is bagging up the last of the dirty paper towels.

“Sorry about–” you start again, but this time he interrupts you with narrowed eyes, realizing, “Kids are too quiet.”

The two of you share a look and step quickly to the living room where bright flashy cartoons are lighting up an empty room. A toddler’s laugh is followed by the urgent hush of a child. And Holy is no longer in his crate.

“Kija,” Yoongi murmurs as you both follow the sound of nails scrabbling excitedly against tile –Holy, but that good pup never operates alone. You both dart to the kitchen to just stare in awe for a moment at the scene of chaos.

The grocery bags Yoongi set onto the counter have been upended. Holy has turned from the onions but the cucumbers are being shredded before your eyes. Joo has a fistfull as well that has no doubt gone through Holy’s mouth prior, but her other hand delicately holds a single cookie, still intact despite the fountain of crumbs around her. 

Kija is the cause of the waterfall, of course. He’s perched innocently on the counter, feet dangling, a box of cookies you weren’t even aware was on its way into the house ripped open like a fucking bear got to it and the cookies are mangled, pieces strewn across the counter, across Kija’s lap, and cascading down to Joo.

“Holy likes cookies,” Kija informs you and Yoongi with a crumby smile. You dart forward to knock the dog-masticated cucumber from Joo’s hand but it means she takes another bite of cookie before you can wrestle that from her too. The tantrum is instant as you pull her up, kicking and screaming, the whole bit because she’s clearly hoping her appa will insist you give the cookie back to her.

“You got into the bags,” Yoongi says, voice serious but steady. He scoops Kija off the counter, sending the cookies falling from his lap. Holy goes wild at the sound of more falling food and you’re the one to grab him, dragging him straight backwards as he scrabbles to try and stay. By the time he’s back in his crate, Yoongi has Kija and Joo both on the counter, feet in the sink as he rinses their toes and hands off. 

Only then do you recognize the smell of the maple cookies you enjoy so much; it’s almost enough to tip you truly into tears to realize Yoongi brought home your favorite cookies and not only did you not have a clean, orderly house for him to enter but now the cookies have been destroyed while he was cleaning up another mess that happened on your watch.

He’s mumbling to the kids and shaking his head; when you come over to offer to take over, he has a smile for you and finally a greeting,

“Seems like it’s been a crazy day, huh?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage as you collapse briefly against his arm, just for the comfort his his solid body. His energy immediately resets you. 

Yoongi’s home. The evening will be better now.

He lifts Joo from the sink first, settling her into your arms to hold as he towels off her toes with the dish towel, then he twists Kija.

“Ah, you were a naughty boy not helping your eomma,” he scolds Kija lightly as he works the towel. “If it’s a crazy day, it’s even more important for you to be a big brother.”

“I do help,” Kija defends. “I feed Joo! She is so hungry and I am so hungry too. It is past our dinner! And you’re late! Why did you go away all day today? It’s not the right thing to do.” He points at the digital readout on the fridge magnet to punctuate his reverse lecture, except not only can Kija not tell time, it’s not a clock, it’s an egg timer. The time right now is definitely not 02:17, that’s just how long was left when Yoongi cooked yesterday and decided the meat was ready before the timer went off and paused it so the beeping wouldn’t wake Joo up from an impromptu nap.

But now that he’s given his defense, Kija’s mouth widens out in that line Yoongi knows appears on his own face, and he gives his father a serious look, trying to gauge how in trouble he actually is.

“No one was bad,” you offer. “Just… busy. Today was a busy day.”

“It was a very busy day,” Kija agrees. He sounds like such a little man, sometimes you have to remind yourself that barely-four is still a very little kid. He watches Yoongi another second but then decides he’s not in trouble and launches into, “Eomma took us to the library for story time and it was about robots! I want to be the blue robot and Joo can be the green robot and you can be the white robot and–”

“Why are the kid books and shows all about robots?” Yoongi sighs, even though he knows that’s not totally true. 

Kija insists hotly, “There are buses and cars too! And airplanes and–”

“Don’t you like animals?” Yoongi presses. “What about mountains and the sea?”

You can’t stop yourself from snickering under your breath, “Yes I married such a nature-boy…”

“I like natural things! Didn’t I make that table and chairs for us?” He had, the very ones nestled in the corner of the kitchen where the four of you would gather to eat what was looking more and more like a dinner of takeout. With a self-aware smile, Yoongi adds, “I like nature as long as I have my computer and electricity and a fan. Then it’s ok. But robots… I want our children to appreciate the natural beauty in life.”

“I want to play with your phone,” Kija counters, a perfectly timed response, on theme even without him understanding how.

Yoongi gives you a look and laughs at his son as he sets him on the ground, “No. Go sit in silence and be alone with your thoughts.”

“I hate silence! I hate my thoughts!”

Now Yoongi is laughing; he’s never lost patiences when Kija gets mouthy, which he seems to do more now, though the obstinacy started as a toddler. He sounds like you, Yoongi had once insisted when you’d worried, but the truth is he sounds like Yoongi more often than you; you’re convinced he already has a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, just like his dad. But he does happen to be going through a robot and race car phase, which Yoongi can’t identify with, and Kija does not seem to enjoy music in any particular way despite it being Yoongi’s life’s blood. 

But Joo does, soothed nightly by the soft melodies of lullabies her appa has composed for her. She giggles now as he leans in to kiss her toes, only to suddenly scowl and scold in her little chirpy voice, 

“No! My toes!”

Abruptly Yoongi stops and mutters playfully, “Already telling her old dad to back off…” A second later though she’s sticking her foot towards him again, trying to tempt him into more tickles expressly so she can tell him off again. She has no problem demanding what she wants, or defending what’s hers, or making it clear when she’s had enough of people and wants some quiet time. As soon as she could crawl, she was trying to break into Yoongi’s studio to get to his keyboard, where she’d jab at a few keys and then call for Appa, her desire for music developing earlier than her ability to verbally communicate it. But Yoongi understood and played for her, improvising melodies around the random keys she’d push. Just like Yoongi understood Kija’s need for praise when he’d make something cool, or more recently, for his dad to be engaged in the things he liked, even if Yoongi didn’t really care about race cars or robots. 

You were not surprised to have learned in the last four years that Yoongi is better as a father than you had ever dreamed. Not perfect. Your years of entering parenthood hadn’t been without friction and frustration. But his love for his children is always first and foremost and watching the way he listens to the children rattling off nearly incoherently about their day under his attention now warms you again. And fans the flame of your own feeling of failure.

Suddenly Yoongi stops them with a hand on each child’s head; they are confused and silenced by the odd behavior as Yoongi says to you, “Go sit and relax with them. I’ll make dinner.”

“It’s late. I didn’t even start rice–”

“I bought microwaveable,” he says –not just a compromise, but a reference to an argument you had in fact won, or at least the realities of parenting small children had. Yoongi had sworn to never have a microwave because of the “horrors” they did to food. But that was before the two of you became connoisseurs of meals that had gone cold while you tended to unfortunately timed diaper explosions, or sleepless nights of teething, of not wanting to turn the oven on to reheat the dino nuggets Kija refused at dinner but Yoongi loving himself a little more than just eating them cold like you do. 

“I wanted to have it ready when you got home,” you sigh. 

He can sense your frustration, though he doesn’t share any of your disappointment. He’s simply moved by understanding; today you were the one with the day busier than expected under the direction of small children. Other days it’s him. His fingers are light on your lower back as he nudges.

“You had the kids by yourself all day,” he shrugs. “It’s enough. Go sit and I’ll get food for everyone. And you will eat more than just cookie crumbs for dinner,” he adds, giving Joo a serious look that only makes the toddler smile. When Yoongi holds the look, eyes slowly narrowing, Joo starts to giggle. 

Yoongi, a fire-spitting underground rapper in his younger days with hard lyrics and rivalries with other artists? It’s impossible for his toddler daughter to imagine. She just performs an incredible feat of agility possibly only for toddlers and presses her foot into his mouth even though she’s still on your hip.

“Ah, kids these days…” he grumbles to make you laugh because he sounds like his own dad. You take the life raft he has offered you and go to watch cartoons with the children. They are deliciously quiet.

For better or worse, Yoongi’s arrival does not actually settle the day down, it simply gives you an extra pair of hands and a calmer mind. The kids eat next to nothing but then complain about being hungry. They cry when the TV is turned off to eat together. They cry when Yoongi won’t give them more cookies even though Kija claims they’re his favorite. Bathtime happens, to be left at that, and with obvious proof by the destruction of the bathroom. Joo has an accident before they even get a diaper onto her so technically bathtime happens again. Kija can’t find his special monkey he sleeps with –the one Yoongi brought back from the weeklong trip he took before Kija was old enough to remember and yet racked him with guilt for months– and then finds it in Holy’s crate which leads to a loud standoff between the two and then an emergency trip through the washing machine and dryer’s quick cycle, which delays bedtime but you both know it won’t happen without Raps the monkey anyway. Kija throws a fit about the different flavor of toothpaste, and the kids can’t agree on a story so it’s settled there will be two, and then there’s a fight for Yoongi’s lap until he shifts and shuffles in the rocking chair until they’re both snuggled down. 

You, the one who worked so hard to care for the children all day, are left with an empty lap on the ground, but other days these roles are reversed so you try not to be hurt by it. Instead you just admire the way Yoongi reads to the kids, so very different than your own attempts to sound like the characters. He just sounds like himself, his smooth voice gliding around the words as he tells the story of Olivia’s trip to the museum like it’s a conversation. In a way it is: every two pages Kija interrupts him to tell him something totally unrelated –a fact he learned about shrimp in a book at the library, that they saw a dog in a backpack on the train, that there were ants on the sidewalk in the park– and Yoongi’s eyebrow raise and he nods in acknowledgement of this precious fact Kija needed to share, and then he continues to story, his voice steady and slow.

Honestly, it’s putting you to sleep too. Yoongi’s way of speaking has always been soothing to you. It was one of the first things you loved about him, that no matter how worked up you were, however bad your day, he could speak about literally anything and his calming words and rhythm would rock you to a place of peace. 

It’s no surprise Joo is almost asleep when he finishes and Kija’s facts have petered out. You carry Joo to her crib and Yoongi tucks Kija into the little boy bed he’s only recently transitioned to; Yoongi and Kija built it together one afternoon from a kit as Yoongi tried to lecture Kija about the importance of building furniture with your own two hands and you tried not to giggle too loudly in the background about how cute your boys are. It took twice as long to build but afterwards Kija announce “Me and Appa are a superteam!” and Yoongi’s smile made clear he didn’t mind the delays.

You trade places, so each child gets a kiss or hair ruffle and whispered I love you from you both, and then meet at the door of the bedroom for one final glance before you shut it.

Except Yoongi has already gone down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “The pork wasn’t very good, I’lll make something else.”

“What? No, the pork was great and I ate enough.”

“Will you eat it if I make something else?”

“No,” you insist, knowing he won’t believe you. He doesn’t. He’s disappointed that he rushed the veggies and left the pork a little too long. It's not the meal he wanted you to have after an obviously tiring day with the kids. But you say again, “I don’t want anything else to eat. I just want…”

“Hm?” He freezes at the kitchen doorway, looking casually back at you as if everything in him doesn’t pause to see what you’ll say. You could say pretty much anything right now and he’d find a way to give it to you as thanks for the day focused on his work, as an apology that he wasn’t here to help, to express his regret that the dinner was not what you deserved.

“Just sit with me and watch a show. Do you have time or are you needing to go right to bed–”

“I have time for you,” he quickly assures you. “Do you want tea? Beer?”

“No, nothing.”

He brings you ice water anyways because he knows you forget to hydrate any when you’re chasing children. 

And he brings a plate, holding it out to you, the mangled remains of the maple cookies displayed.

“Can I interest you in some cookies?” he asked. 

The laughter bubbles out of you, followed by tears he predicted. He sets the water and plate of cookies on the table –with a stern “No” to Holy whose head lifts curiously from his bed by the TV. Then Yoongi bundles you into his arms, and stretches out into the corner of the couch and lifts the remote, silent and casual in his comfort of your minor breakdown. As soon as the show is selected –the next episode of something you two have been gradually making your way through, slowly since you each tend to fall asleep– he wraps both arms around you.

“Seems like it was a long day,” he says, hand stroking gently down your back. You nod under his chin. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I wanted to make it look easy and have everything nice when you came home after working all day–”

“Cut it with that bullshit,” he snorts. “I know it’s not easy. I just feel bad I was away all day–”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it. It’s good! You deserve to go and it’s for your career… I know you keep passing on things to be at home.”

He shrugs again, voice low as he points out, “So do you.”

“Yeah, well…” It’s true. It’s true for both of you, and maybe, you consider, Yoongi feels that same blend of relief and regret that you do when you leave the house. The same blend you feel when you come home too. “It’s hard to want to be two places at once,” you sigh.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So we’re doing the best we can, I think.”

You nod. It’s true. The rest of the world makes it look so easy, like as soon as you have children your interests become singular, your patience and energy unlimited, your bond with your partner unshakeable. The last four years have tested all of those things –and yet you don’t regret it, not really, even after a day like today.

“I don’t regret any of this,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. “Except the dinner.”

“I thought it was good.”

“That’s because you’ll eat cold dino-nuggets. Your taste has always been terrible.”

“Yoongi!” you cry, laughter lacing his name on your lips. “I chose you, didn’t I?”

“Proving my point.”

“No, disproving it. You made very good little kids, even if they were little stinkers today.”

“I didn’t make those, you made them. I just gave you some of the materials. Maybe I’ll give you some more materials tonight.”

It earns a giggle against his chest. You both know you’ll fall asleep too quickly to get that far, even if you try to rally right now. You also know the materials won’t be true; a small procedure months ago has made sure that Kija and Joo will be the only two offspring for Min Yoongi. Two felt right to you both. Two felt like the maximum. Sometimes two felt like too much but you pushed through those moments, and once the glass and pee and cookie crumbs were cleaned up, two felt right again. 

“What, you don’t think I can?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be awake for it,” you admit.

“Ah, it’s like that, huh? I’ve lost my touch.”

“Your touch is good, my energy meter is just low.”

“Have some cookies, maybe the sugar will help you rally.”

“Why… wait, you really want to? Tonight?”

“I don’t know… you were so busy all day, I won’t bother you…”

“It’s not a bother, I just figured you were working all day…” You’re flattered now by the sudden bashfulness as he refuses to meet your eye when you push up against his chest. How many years have you been together now? And he still gets shy sometimes. You adore him, there’s no need to be shy, but it’s a core part of him and you treasure it, just as much as you melt at the times he is very much not shy about his wants.

So you reach over and grab a handful of cookies from the plate. They crumble in your hand, but still you sit up to eat the remains. It helps that he looks horrified by the crumbs escaping your cupped palm. You can’t stop giggling. He starts laughing too as Holy comes over to inspect this windfall.

“I just wanted to bring you your favorite cookies,” he sighs.

“I just wanted the house to be nice for you,” you point out. “Anyway, I’m still eating the cookies.”

“In crumbs.”

“They still taste good.”

“I’m so glad you have bad taste,” he sighs. You hold out a hand and he opens his mouth but doesn’t seem to expect you’ll actually dump some small pieces into it. Now he’s laughing and you’re both missing the show but you don’t care. He slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. 

“I’m so glad I had good taste when it mattered,” you argue, poking his side. 

You don’t have to see it to feel his gummy grin as he says, “Come on, I’m not that great–”

“I mean about this flavor of cookies, they’re really good.”

“You brat.”

The giggles are the final balm you needed, and maybe for him too. He seems happy when he drags you back in his arms and he doesn’t have to say it for you to know he’s glad to be home, and glad to be here with you. Even when it’s hard, you’re happy together. Even when your dinners aren’t perfect and your cookies get crumbled. Even when you both are interested at the suggestion of sex but then fail to make it to the end of the episode despite your best intentions.

It’s ok. There will be many more nights. You’re both learning, like how he should have just taken you right to the bedroom instead of watching the episode. But maybe the snuggles on the couch were all you each wanted or needed anyway. 

It’s ok. You still feel Yoongi’s love because in the morning he takes the kids and lets you sleep, and pulls the blanket back over you before he leaves the bed, and that really is love. And because of that, tonight you will make sure you have energy. 

Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

It’s ok. Waking up to the sound of your husband's low chuckles and the high giggles of your children is worth it all. And unlike that business about the toothpaste, Yoongi couldn’t agree with you more.

REBLOG IF YOU HAVE STRETCHMARKS

This way people can see they’re not alone. I have them and this would help me see that.

Extremely unholy thoughs

Gif credit: @kimtaegis

Don't mention it! Thank you for writing this sweet story and share it with us 😭. I live for fluffy sweet drabbles too and smut as well *cough* *cough* ahahahaha. Please do tag me when you write another fluff Yoongi 🤧

Yoongi x Reader

I’ve been inspired by all the talented writers on here so I decided to do a very short one shot 🫣

Inspired by his Instagram photos of his messy hair 😭

Warnings: none just soft Yoongi and sunlight

Ps: if you have any constructive criticism pls drop in the comments as this is my first one shot.

Waking up to the sun shining through the sheer curtain, the room is painted in a warm glow. Turning over I grab my phone from the bedside table as 9am greets me.

Yawning as I pat the other side of the bed for Yoongi, I instead find his disappearing warmth. Stumbling my way out of bed, the smell of coffee fills the air. Stretching as I slowly move to the kitchen I’m greeted by Yoongi’s back and messy bed head. A smile graces my face as I walk closer towards him.

Hearing my footsteps he turns to face me, sleep prevalent on his face.

“Morning.” He grumbles.

Yoongi looks especially cute this morning, his long hair moving in all directions with him leaning against the countertop. The coffee smell coming from the mug in his hands.

“Good morning,” I whisper, moving to hug him from behind. “Did you sleep well?” I continued, as he turned to face me.

Yoongi pulls me closer, as we linger in each other’s warmth. Moving back a bit he gives me a fond look, his gummy smile making an appearance.

“Mhmm, I came to bed earlier than yesterday” brushing pieces of his hair back, “didn’t finish the song but wanted to be near you.” He states softly.

Heat floods my face as I move to bury it into his chest. He chuckles, gently pulling my face out of hiding. Cupping his hand against my cheek, he stares into my eyes for a moment before leaning in for a short kiss.

“I love you jagiya.” His forehead pressed against your own as he whispers his affection.

Flushing red again, I mumble my love back. Shy smiles and soft glances are exchanged, as we bask in the rays of golden light and each other’s presence.

love signs (min yoongi)

Image credit: to owner. I don't own this picture.

pairing: reader x min yoongi

rating/genre: pg, fluff, slice of life, established relationship

warnings: heavy mentions of eating/food

playlist: love signs by the jungle giants

note: trying my hand at this fluff thing cause i need some comfort goddamn it (might turn this into a series because it was fun lemme know if you want something like that)

words: 400-ish

masterlist

_________________________________________

"You're up."

Yoongi nods, frying up something delicious smelling in the pan. "There's coffee on the table."

"You didn't have to. I could've just....."

"Grabbed some processed thing from the 7-Eleven fridge at the airport? Yeah. No."

You smiled at him and walked closer, hugging him from behind. "Thank you."

"Mmh."

Sat at the table, you watched as he piled food onto your plate. Then you dug in. Whatever he cooked always tasted great. And today was no different - eggs Benedict over English muffins. Even your Americano was restaurant quality.

"What's your plan for the rest of the day?" You ask, mouth stuffed with food. Yoongi chuckles, wiping away the corner with his thumb and licking off the hollandaise sauce.

"Get sad, go sleep, make music."

"Two of those I get. But get sad? Why? I'll be back in like a week." You note, piling on some of the eggs onto the crisp bread.

"You'll still be gone for a week." He says. It wasn't just the tone of his voice that threw you off. It was the words themselves too. Yoongi wasn't a clingy person by any stretch of the imagination. He kept busy and so did you - perks of both being producers in the music industry. But this was new.

"You know, if I told people what a sap you were..... I could ruin your reputation." You tease. Yoongi frowns, pouting. You'd kiss him if you weren't so goddamn hungry.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would." You say, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

"Please.....no.....I'll tone it down."

"I didn't say I wanted that." You inform, clearing away your plate.

"Then?" You chuckle lightly, drawing closer. With a kiss to the top of his head, you say,

"Just for that look on your face. Priceless."

"You are....."

"The best, I know."

He joins you as you gather your things, floating from the bedroom to the living area.

"Call me when you get there."

"Mmh."

"No, no, call me when you're in the plane too. Just when you're about to leave." Yoongi says.

"Okay."

"And when you land....."

"Needy. So needy."

You tease him, catching his wrist in your hands. Your arms hold him hostage as you kiss him on the cheek first. He scrunches his nose in mock distaste. Then your lips trail upwards, kissing him on the temple. But the time you reach his nose, he's relaxed against you.

"Don't work too much." You caution. He nods.

"Mmh. I love you." He says, his deep intelligent eyes staring into yours. You nod, reaching up and kissing him on the mouth. He deepens the kiss for just a moment, tongue tracing your bottom lip.

"Hollandaise could've used more salt."

You roll your eyes at him. Yoongi was honestly ridiculous sometimes. But you could feel your chest tighten with the love you felt for him. You did love him. You really did. You never thought you'd find anyone to feel this way about and yet, here he was.

"Bye, weirdo. I love you!"

You say, arms extending into a grand gesture. Yoongi laughs a little before kissing your cheek one as a final au revoir - not as a goodbye, but a "until I see you again".